


"Not Now"

by holbytlanna



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Bless Jack Dalton, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James MacGyver's A+ parenting, We Hate James MacGyver In This House Y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holbytlanna/pseuds/holbytlanna
Summary: Mac heard "not now" often as a kid, but Jack always has time for his boy.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 89





	"Not Now"

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, my lovelies! Have some angst with lots of fluff sprinkled on top!

Little Angus’ mother never told him “not now.” She always had time for whatever babble he would say, whatever thing he had found that he was so excited about. Even as her son noticed she got paler, more tired, her face would light up when he brought her things, and she always made time to play with him, up until the day she died.

Slightly older Little Angus heard “not now” quite often. Sometimes from teachers, too busy helping other kids who were struggling with elementary math to answer yet another question from their brightest student, leagues ahead of the others. But most often, he heard it from his father. The day he was curious about the impact driver and wanted to see if his dad would help him with it. The day he tried pouring water on a grease fire he had started accidentally around back of the toolshed. Even the day he fell out of a tree and hobbled himself back into the house, with tears on his round cheeks and holding a broken wrist, James had said “Not now, Angus, I’m on the phone. I’ll deal with you in a moment.” 

Back then, Little Angus couldn’t really understand the difference between “I’ll deal with you” and “I’ll take care of you.” Memories of his mother were fading, no matter how hard he tried to cling to them, to her. Some days, James truly did try to be the good dad he had been, years ago. But those days were becoming fewer and farther between. Angus was “dealt with” more often than he was cared for.

He learned to stop asking his father questions, to deal with things himself.

Later, when James decided to stop even trying to be there for his son, Angus went to live with his grandfather, who called him “Gus” until Angus decided he liked “Mac” better. Harry didn’t usually say “not now,” but that was mostly because Mac had learned by then not to bother people with himself and his questions and problems.

As he grew up a bit, he opened up a little more, and also accepted that he couldn’t shut down any time he heard the two words strung together. There would be days people wouldn’t have time for him, and that was okay, they had their own busy lives. 

Mac had nailed down to a science when the right time was, or so he thought. To catch someone when they weren’t doing anything important, when they had time to listen, or no choice. And sometimes, at MIT, he found himself surrounded by people who understood, who wanted to hear his questions and explanations. And Bozer helped a lot. He was always there, always listening, even if he didn’t understand.

But usually, Mac kept his opinions to himself. 

Until he met Jack. Loudmouthed, brash Jack, who told Mac his door was always open (“you don’t have a door, Jack.” “It was metaphorical, genius”). Who said he would always be there to listen when Mac wanted to talk. Who always got upset when Mac tried to crawl off and lick his own wounds, saying “we’re a team, let me help you.”

Over the years, both in the army and later in DXS, Mac finally felt like he was free of those two words. They didn’t haunt him, didn’t hang over his head. He had Jack, he had Patty and Nikki. He had a team who seemed to genuinely care about him and what he had to say. He had to dumb things down for them, sure, but that was okay. Not everyone understood advanced theoretical physics. Nikki did the same for him with computer coding. He stopped feeling like he was bothering people just by talking.

Nikki left and Riley came, and Patty left and Matty took over, and Bozer joined the team. Jack was the constant fixture. Always having time for him, or making time. That meant more to Mac than anything in the world. 

One time, Mac had started to tell a story about a time at MIT where he had synthesised a complex chemical reaction similar to the one he needed for the particular mission at hand. How in the MIT labs, the explosion had indicated that his experiment failed (and landed him in a lot of trouble) but how this time, the resulting explosion would be a good thing... but he had trailed off, worried about talking too much. Jack didn’t really care about chemistry, and probably didn’t understand half of what he was saying anyway. He might as well have been speaking gibberish, and what was the point of making Jack listen to that? “Sorry. It’s kind of a long story.”

Jack had responded with “That’s okay, hoss, I don’t got nothin’ better to do while we’re waiting. I got all the time you need.” And Mac had needed to clear his throat and try to subtly blink away tears at that. _I have all the time you need._ No one had ever been like this for Mac before, not since his mom died.

Mac’s search for his dad was born not out of a desire to reconnect, but for closure. Sometimes Jack suggested he try reconnecting when — if — they found him, but Mac had no intention of doing so. He likely wouldn’t even have contacted James MacGyver when he found him, just would have made sure he was alive. Found out where he was, if he was doing well. He didn’t want to risk reopening any of the old wounds in his heart that might have been more scabbed over than really healed.

That plan, of locating and not contacting, went kaput real fast. When James resurfaced as Oversight, Mac tried to bury that old anxiety. To remind himself that he had people who cared about him, about what he brought to the table. He still ended up leaving. What he had told his father was true, he couldn’t work for someone he didn’t trust, but more than that, he didn’t want to work for the man who had done the most damage to him. 

Murdoc liked to poke at the cracks in Mac’s armour, taunting him. James was the reason he had needed armour in the first place.

But Mac couldn’t stay in hiding forever. He couldn’t run from his father and the memories and emotions forever. The world still needed him, and so did his team. And if he was honest, he needed them all just as much. The months he spent away from them were good for him: he got a chance to clear his head and do some good in a part of the world he had never really spent a lot of time in. But he missed them all. 

He missed Bozer’s cooking and chaotic antics around their house. He missed Matty. She had lied to him, but he had come to terms with it. She had been protecting him and providing him the means to find his father at the same time. He missed her tough love, her no-nonsense attitude and the playful spark in her eyes. He missed Cage, had been missing her for a while. She had quickly become a part of the family, more like a sister now than the girl-next-door that she had started out as. Mac missed her flashing smirk and lilting accent, quick with a joke or to comfort. He missed Jill’s sweet enthusiasm and genuine kindness, and even Leanna, their newest team member. He hadn’t known her long, even though he’d been ‘married’ to her, but she was capable, confident and well able to hold her own among the team at both work and play. And Mac really missed Riley. Always thinking ahead, always ready with a snappy reply, she listened to him when he ‘Macsplained’ and trusted him without question, just as he did her.

But more than anyone, he missed Jack. His constant since he was almost-twenty and fresh out of EOD training. His sounding board, his grounding wire. Jack had always been there for him, even if it had been begrudgingly at first. Jack knew more about Mac almost than he did himself. It seemed like he always knew exactly what to do or say, exactly what Mac needed and when. Jack was closer than a brother to him. (He tried to stop himself from thinking it, in case Jack didn’t feel similarly, but Mac sometimes thought Jack was more of a father than a brother to him. The best father he’d known.)

Nigeria was great, and Nasha was a wonderful girlfriend. But he missed his family. And they needed him back in action.

When Mac returned, it was like nothing had changed. The team welcomed him back with open arms, and working together was seamless. But his relationship with James hadn’t changed either. 

He asked if Mac was done processing, making it sound like he had acted like a petulant child who had thrown a tantrum. Maybe he had, but he had felt justified in quitting. And now James acted like all of Mac’s reasons for leaving were moot: his distrust, his insecurities, his fears. James had no time for them. All of a sudden, all the years were gone and Mac felt like a ten-year-old kid whose dad didn’t have time for him. All the years of progress, of opening up, seemed to vanish.

—————

And don’t think Jack didn’t notice.

Mac clammed up, not only when James was around, but in general, retreating into himself. He stopped being so open about his geeky self. He didn’t interrupt movies with facts, he didn’t correct Jack nearly as often as he deserved to be corrected, and worst of all, he stopped standing up for himself to his father. 

Jack wasn’t all that happy about Mac leaving (alone), but after meeting James MacGyver, and knowing what little Mac would share about his childhood, he completely understood why Mac wouldn’t want to continue working for the man. His choice to leave wouldn’t have been spur-of-the-moment: Jack knew Mac thought things out beforehand. He had had time to come to terms with the fact that his absentee dad had been pulling his strings all his life, and had a choice to make. James had no right to make his son feel like his choice was wrong, when it obviously hadn’t been. But Mac didn’t fight back against barely-concealed verbal barbs and insinuations. He just retreated into himself and didn’t come out.

Jack (who was smarter than most people gave him credit for, and good at reading people) had a theory that actually formed back in the Sandbox. A month after Jack re-upped, a commanding officer had barked “Not now, Specialist!” at Mac when he had been trying to point out a flaw in a plan. The kid had been totally right, and the actions of that CO had nearly cost a lot of lives by not listening to him, but what had really hit Jack was the way the kid just _deflated_ when reprimanded. And he knew it wasn’t just being yelled at. The kid had made it through boot camp, for pete’s sake, he could take being yelled at. Jack had sat beside him through far more severe chewing-outs. And it wasn’t that the CO had pulled rank, either. Mac knew his rank and was proud of it, and didn’t mind being addressed as “Specialist.” And honestly, with a name like Angus MacGyver, Jack couldn’t really blame him. No, that “not now” had been what did it.

That was when Jack had decided to be a bit more vocal in his “I'm here for you, kiddo” speeches, when he had started saying “Talk to me, Mac, where you at?” And Mac had relaxed some. 

Jack had almost forgotten about that incident and the theories that came from it until now, because it hadn’t been relevant for years. But now, with James MacGyver back in play, and Mac every bit as tense and restrained as he had been all those years ago, Jack was jumping to some conclusions about Mac’s childhood that made his knuckles itch to make forceful contact with James MacGyver’s face.

This all came to a head after a mostly-successful mission, when James actually did bark “Not now, Angus!” at him during the debrief. Mac looked stricken, every bit as much as he would have if James had hit him, and stopped talking immediately. He didn’t speak again for the entirety of the debrief, just looked down at his shoes. When they left the War Room, Mac booked it, and Jack was hard-pressed to keep up.

He found Mac sequestered away in an empty lab, pulling on gloves and goggles and a lab coat with trembling hands. Jack didn’t say anything, just sat down on a nearby stool and watched Mac play with chemicals and microscopes. Mac didn’t say anything either, so Jack assumed it was okay with Mac that he stayed.

Mac cursed as his hands shook too much to use what looked to Jack like a fancy eyedropper. Jack offered quietly, standing slowly. He didn’t offer to do it instead of Mac, to imply that Mac couldn’t do it. The kid didn’t need that kind of blow to his confidence, not now. He simply asked “Mind if I try that, hoss?”

Mac closed his eyes behind the goggles, taking in a long, trembling breath. Looking seconds away from cracking. But he nodded. “You have to wear gloves, though.” His voice was a little rough. He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. Jack didn’t say anything. “This will burn you if it gets on you.”

Jack walked over to the cupboard, pulling out a crisp white lab coat. “Do I get to wear one of these too?” he asked, grinning. “If I’m gonna pretend to be a mad scientist like you, I gotta have one of these coats!”

Mac huffed out what could have been the beginning of a laugh. “Sure, Jack, you can wear a lab coat. Grab some goggles while you’re in there.”

Jack did, snapping them onto his face. “Nerd goggles too? Hell yeah! Now I’m a real Doctor Frankenstein. When do we go grave-robbing?”

Mac quirked his lips up in the beginnings of a smile. “You know, Doctor Frankenstein didn’t actually have a doctorate. He was just a university student.” There it was, a hint of the nerd Jack knew and loved, the one he’d been trying to find for the past few weeks. But the second Jack looked over at him with a grin, the faint smile fled Mac’s face and he turned back to his chemistry, clamming right back up. _Dammit._

Jack shuffled over, doing his best Frankenstein impression. “It’s alive! Aliiiiiive!!” Now that he had seen the momentary reappearance of Mac’s spirit, he was determined to find it again. “Alrighty now, what did I volunteer to do? And it better not be gettin’ reanimated, thank you very much, Doctor.”

Mac walked him through his experiment, and Jack carefully followed his instructions, working with him side-by-side. He asked Mac a bunch of questions, about what they were doing, what chemicals they were using and why. Mac hesitated before answering every single question, like he was unsure if Jack really wanted to hear the answers and explanations. But Jack did, absolutely.

Jack was far from dumb. Sure, he flunked chemistry in high school, and consequently didn’t really know what exactly he and Mac were doing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t follow Mac’s explanations. He made sure Mac knew it, too. Asking follow-up questions, doing some mental math, and telling Mac when something clicked for him. Never once asking him to dumb his thoughts down or calling him any kind of names. Jack had no idea how Mac would take being called “Professor” or “brainiac” just then, so he just didn’t risk it. 

He most emphatically did not bring up James or what had happened in the War Room. Mac would talk when and if he was ready. Right now was all about getting Mac back to being comfortable in his own skin, surrounded by things he knows and a willing audience.

They worked on Mac’s chemistry project — some kind of fancy water purification drops — until pretty late. But Jack could proudly say that Mac could talk without his voice trembling, and his hands were steady again. 

They had carpooled to work that morning, as usual, so Jack drove them to Mac’s house and went inside with Mac after he offered. They grabbed a beer each and sat on the deck, though Mac didn’t light the firepit. And they just talked about little things. The cute nurse from the last time they were in medical (too recent for Jack’s comfort, but whatever. A redhead is a redhead in Jack’s book, no matter where you find her). A new movie was coming out soon that Bozer was excited about. One of the lab techs was getting engaged. Just little things, commonplace conversations that took no real effort or thought.

Finally, after a small period of not-quite-uncomfortable silence, Mac said “I’m okay, Jack.”

Jack smiled, just a little sadly. Mac could and would pretend to be okay, burying any hurt, like ignoring it would make it go away. “Okay,” he said back, and he didn’t press the matter. But he didn’t make any effort to change the subject.

Mac shifted on the couch, just a little uncomfortable with the topic and Jack’s simple acceptance. “He always used to say that. “Not now,” I mean. He was always busy, so I… I learned not to bother him.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I learned a lot of things by doing that. How to put out a grease fire. How to use an impact driver. How to get perchloroethylene out of fabric. How to splint a broken wrist.”

Jack was quietly horrified. That bastard of a man had ignored him when he was injured, leaving a child younger than ten to splint his own broken wrist? Jack was starting to care less and less about how very fired he would be if he punched his boss.

“I saved myself some trouble, I guess,” Mac continued, staring into the days-old ashes. “He would have been more angry if he’d found out about some of those things. But I….” He paused, licking his lips and looking even more uncomfortable and apprehensive, flicking his eyes up to meet Jack’s briefly before falling to his clasped hands. “I guess I’ve never really gotten out from under those words. Every time I hear them, it’s like I’m seven all over again. I’m small, and I’m in the way.”

“You ain’t in nobody’s way, hoss.” Jack could feel his heart breaking for this boy. This boy who had spent his whole life feeling like nobody cared what he was going through or what he had to say, all because his worthless excuse for a father couldn’t be bothered to care for his son when he was small. _Mac, don’t you_ _know _ _that we all care so much?_

“Still feels like it, sometimes. And—” Mac was cut off as a clock struck the ungodly hour of 1:15. He stiffened, his whole body tense and expression upset. “I’m so sorry, Jack, I’ve been talking so long. I shouldn’t have kept you so late, I know you’re tired, I’m sorry—”

“Whoa now, hold your horses, you needed to talk, and that’s why I’m here.” Jack reached a hand out to Mac’s shoulder, and felt the tense muscles begin to relax under his touch. “I’m pretty sure the whole point of this talk was for me to tell you that you can always talk to me. Remember? ‘My door is always open,’ and all that.”

Mac looked like he might honestly cry, so Jack eased up just a bit on his speech. He hadn’t meant to overwhelm the kid, just reassure him that Jack cared about him. “It’s alright, Mac. But you’re right, it is kinda late. Mind if I kip here tonight?”

Mac looked a little startled, but quickly stammered out “Yeah, yeah of course. Spare room’s yours.”

The pair of them stood, Mac a little shaky on his feet still, and they headed back inside and off to bed. They exchanged quiet “goodnight”s, but Jack still felt like he needed to make sure Mac knew he wasn’t any sort of burden or problem, to him or to anyone else. Before Mac could close his door, Jack said “Hey, and Mac?”

“Yeah?” Mac looked a little hesitant, peering at him around the door.

“I meant it, brother, you can always talk to me. About anything. Even the nerdy stuff. I’ve always got time for you.”

Mac was quiet for a moment, and Jack hoped he hadn’t pushed a little too far. But then Mac met his eye almost for the first time in days, and with a soft smile, simply said “I know.”


End file.
